


the greatest hits

by ratpoet



Series: Hem & Fall [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Makeup, Slice of Life, Vignettes, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6293020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratpoet/pseuds/ratpoet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's known since middle school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. maroon

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to make this work as a stand-alone, but the first fic is[ right here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6273898), and it's only 1k words.

HALEY’S HOUSE

The black dress laid out on the bed. Splayed out on the bed. The black dress with the lace and the straps and the **gravity**. A radio on a dressing table. The greatest hits, on repeat.

_I am twirling & twirling & then I am falling_

And the dark feral moon. Or the gray wise moon. Or the shining silver moon, a sliver of all our love. But the constant: craters.

_These are all ways to distract yourself._

Do not look at the dress. 

But there is this: CYNOSURE.

So, the dress. _Silk_ _hems_ _soft_ **gold**. A darkened theater and a gunfight. Ashes to ashes.

The thing of beauty waits to be defiled.

  


HALEY’S HOUSE

Yes, we get it. The dress is the weapon and the stars and the moon. This is your fantasy and your destiny and _aren’t you veering yet again?_

You’d think if you could start right, then the rest would fall into place.

 

MORNING AFTER

A chapstick. That is a safe place to start.

The filling in of cracks, ice against your lips. The tiniest bit of colour.

You wear it to school. Your lips are cracked.

And you wear it to a party, with that cute boy _you only noticed 'cause he’s in your class, you should say hi, and oh god does he know-_

You wear it everywhere.

 

SCHOOL CHOIR/OPERA

There is a thing in your chest about this, the great thaw, or another coping mechanism. If you had to wake at five tomorrow, would you spend tonight flirting with a bottle of mascara?

 _Minimal makeup,_ the pamphlet says.

What a beautiful, beautiful boy you’d make.

 

SCHOOLYARD FIGHT

_Not a faggot not a faggot not a fucking-_

 

SNEAK

“Hey, have you seen that new tube of eyeliner I bought yesterday?” your sister asks.

"No why would I and also fuck off," you say. 

You know a lot of hiding places.

 

EMPTY

You go window-shopping, but you never buy anything.

_Does a tree make a noise when it falls down if nobody is around to hear it?_

Also would it make any difference if you never stopped pretending?

 

RED

You swallow toothpaste.

It tastes like lipstick.

_When does toothpaste taste like lipstick?!_

Answer: when you really want to taste lipstick.

 

PROM NIGHT

Shit shit shit look at all that, you’re _all that_ , why do you wear those dresses like that, and the makeup and the bows and the **spirals** and the elbows, _all smooth glossed over,_ all gossamer and pink pink frill- why do you _do_ that?

 


	2. red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’ll grow on you,” Bitty’d said, and you didn’t believe him because you knew, even then. 
> 
> But here you are anyway, so fuck it. Fuck it.

COLLEGE

_“Samwell University was ranked the #1 most LGBTQ-friendly campus in America by US News and World Report for the last three years running, and is also considered to be…”_

 

LUGGAGE

Pressed shirts: check. Stationery: check. Hockey equipment: check.

Your suitcase feels empty, but your suitcase always feels empty,

and nothing is ever different.

 

MINIMALISM

_Everything is a balancing act-_

-and aren’t you a fucking pro, know your way around things you don’t want to talk about so well, just the right amount of push-pull-push-withdraw, a master in your own right, but it’s the first day of college and you’re entitled to this, you are, and-

- _and we are all tipping over._

This brand of face cream is strictly for men, anyway.

 

HOCKEY

_This kid._

 

INTRODUCTIONS

_“I don’t hate you.”_

It’s only for Chowder, anyway.

[You _don’t_ hate him, but it’s for Chowder, and that’s the important thing.]

 

LARDO

_Fall now, while the falling’s good._

You even manage to half-convince yourself, but you know your heart only thuds like that when she’s wearing nail polish, and Lardo has this _thing_ for nail polish, all bright colours and clean stripes and a new pattern every week, and isn’t that just fucking _great_?

 

“WE KNOW WHO WE ARE”

It’s probably a joke anyway- Nursey’s never liked labels and _why do you know that, are you **supposed** to know that, do friends know what _ \- you don’t know who he is.

The _point_ is, you also don’t know who you are.

It shouldn’t matter this much, but a chokehold is a chokehold and swallowing down words always leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

 

CHICK-FLICK MARATHON

A concept of physics: the quantity of fluid that passes a point per unit time; FLOW.

A concept applied: a dress shifting in the wind, shifting from the weight of a body, rippling over and over, a dress a shift a poem _, easy now, gentle_ , shining motion; FLOW.

You excuse yourself early, and if Nursey would just stop looking at you like that like he fucking _knows_ \- it would be so much easier.

 

RED LETTER DAY

A match that means everything, but _so does every match_ and _it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s **okay**._

You know it’s probably your fault, but there’s a hand resting on your back, and if this is a calculated strategy to distract you, it’s working.

It’s okay.

 

SATURN

Rings around a planet, and rings around your finger.

You're out of your mind. _Out of this world_. Out of your mind.

You only do it for Janet- Julia- Jane, it’s _Jane_ , you're **_dating_** _her could you get a fucking **grip**_ \- you only do it for Jane.

“The sanctity of marriage cannot be undermined,” she says, and it’s only a promise ring, _Christ_ , and you nod but you're sweating under your collar and you're sweating around the ring and you're sweating through the searing metal and you're-

_It’s just a ring, Christ._

 

SATURN

[He laughs when he sees it but there’s something in his eyes, the edge of the cliff, and you aren’t sure if it makes everything better or worse, but either way, the ring ends up in the trash.]

 

BET #126

“Everyone has pre-game rituals,” he scoffed, and you said “Not me.”

You lied.

You rub chapstick over your lips before every match, a leftover ritual from high school when your first kiss wasn’t good luck but definitely felt that way, and it may or may not work but _excuses excuses_ and _winning is never that_ _important._

Winning is never that important, but.

 

SOFT & SENTIMENTAL

“He’ll grow on you,” Bitty’d said, and you didn’t believe him because you _knew_ , even then.

But here you are anyway, so fuck it. Fuck it.

 

DEX’S ROOM

Everything is slow and soft, until it isn’t.

“Just put the dress on already,” Nursey says, and everything stops for a second, everything freezes in your chest.

“What did you say,” you say, and what the fuck, what the _fuck_ , everything’s happening so fast and then somebody says something and it might have been you, and then you have the dress in your hands and then you have the dress on your skin and Nursey’s saying something, breathing heavily, and-

You’re wearing a fucking dress.

 “You're so-“ Nursey’s begins, running his hands over your dress, over your body, everything rushing and stopping and slowing down, a hitch in your chest but _it’s okay it’s okay it’s **okay**_.

“Dex,” Nursey says, and you know who you are, you're right here, so you pull him in with one hand, and everything falls away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to make this fic work as a stand-alone, but if things aren't clear (especially the last part), then the first fic is [right here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6273898) (and it's just 1k words, guys, go read it).
> 
> Also, there's definitely supposed to be a second chapter, but writing this fic feels a lot like punching myself in the face repeatedly, so.
> 
> [Comments would definitely help, though. Just saying. :^) ]


	3. fuchsia

MORNING AFTER

 

 _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ -

No.

_What the **fuck** , how could-_

No.

 _Wait, but did any of it really_ -

No.

 _I want to forget everyth_ -

No.

_I want to forget everything._

 

SELECTIVE MEMORY

You claw off- you take off the dress, you- push off his hand, rip off hi- crawl away from his body, you, you're, it’s-

You remember everything.

There is no safe place to start.

 

WOOLY MOUTH

“Dex, Christ, could you just-” he whispers- the space between your mouths decreasing every second. _If a train is moving at 45 miles per hour in one direction, and another train is moving at 30 miles per hour in the same direction…_

 “Fuck _off_ ,” you whisper, digging your nails into his skin. He moans into your mouth.

“You didn’t talk to me for days,” he says. Accuses. Pleads.

“Shut up,” you say. Whisper. Plead.

 “Listen, you don’t have to-” he says, and then you're both colliding again. _Miles to go, miles to go, miles to go._

“Yeah?” you say. Bite your tongue, spit out your teeth.

“We don’t… nobody will find out,” he whispers, breathing ragged, hitched.

It’s not what he was going to say.

This is not what you were going to do.

_If a train is approaching another at x miles a second, and the distance between the tracks is exactly the width of your chest, then how long does it take for the average passenger to die?_

BABY STEPS

 

  1. undocumented



“You want to get takeout?” he asks.

 **Date**. 

 _No_.

 **Date**.

_It’s just takeout._

**Da** _-_

“Yes.”

 

  1. stumble



“So, uh, my roommate’s leaving for two days,” you say. You're talking to Chowder. You’re talking to Chowder.

“Oh?” Nursey says, smirking _, that bastard_ , and you swear you didn’t see him there.

 

  1. three steps forward



“You can use my shower.”

_And my soap and my hands and my-_

“Yeah, go ahead.”

 

  1. a fall



“We’re not- we’re- why would you-”

“Oh, I- I thought-” Farmer says. Blushes.

“ _No_.”

 

TEMPORARY SETBACK

_Where there’s a will, there’s a way._

 

PULL

“It’s just facepaint, man, come here,” Lardo says. Reaches out her fingers, slathers your skin with red, brick cherry cake, a gushing and then clean cover.

_Dislocation: red paste, glass slipper, the semblance of balance._

Everything means anything in relation to another thing: makeup is a form of art/ is another form of choking.

“ _I'm allergic_ ,” you whisper. The first attempt that is also a last-ditch-attempt and is also another way of- choking.

 

FIRST WORDS

“I don’t want to talk about this ever again,” you spit out, and he’s _the sun-_ laughing. He’s laughing. More light streaming out the wrong way. The only way.

You hate his laugh.

“What did you call me again?” he shakes his head, still laughing.

“Fuck off,” you say.

“Okay, _babe_ ,” he whispers.

You can't hear anything.

 

UNEXPECTED PRO

“Dude, whatever you two are doing, _keep doing it_ ,” Shitty says. “That was one of the best plays of the _entire_ _season_.”

You would say something, but it _was_ one of the best plays of the entire season.

 

“See, told you it’d all work out,” you hear Bitty say to Chowder later.

You would say something, but.

 

MISAPPROXIMATION

“ _I'm not wearing it_.”

 

TEMPORARY SETBACK

_Where there’s a will, there’s a way._

Anyway.

You don’t believe in this bullshit, so that’s okay.

 

CONVICTION

“Listen, you don’t have to keep pretending,” he whispers, rubbing circles over the skin on your back.

You wish you had more of a spine.

“Shut up,” you say. Accuse. Plead.

“It gets better,” he whispers, acts like he _knows_.

No. “No.”

_The illusion of love: or the illusion of choice:_

“No.” 

 

 

SMALL GESTURE

“You know, finding a body in the attic might actually be better than finding a thousand roaches.”

 

SURRENDER

_\-  ???_

 

SURRENDER

_It’s okay it’s-_

 

SURRENDER

_You’re not supposed to-_

“Of course I want you,” he whispers, and the silent-

the _anyway I can have you_ lingers, pushes-

Breathe. You can-

“I don’t care,” you say.

 

Later: another silent _let’s start over_.

 

PILLAR OF SALT

_Destruction begins with pieces, ends up in rocks- a city on fire, your mouth on fire, a tower falling, a lake of salt._

“You can ruin me, you can- _fuck_ , **_fuck_**.”

 

WORK IN PROGRESS

“Chill”

“Fuck off"

    -   forced laughter.

 : slow diffusion.

 

WORN DOWN

 

_Inch inch inch inch_

_inch inch inch inch_

_inch inch inch inch_

_foot_

 

JUST THIS ONE TIME

Just this one time.

Black liquid smeared across your eyelids, smeared over your eyelashes.

Blink, press, open: the moon and its craters. The moon and its sky.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. Strangled.

You wish you could take this back. Or you wish you wished you could take it back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to god, this fic. This was supposed to end two chapters ago. I am dying, here.
> 
> I have no idea when the next chapter will be up, but going by the way I'm writing this, it's either gonna be two days later, or a month later.
> 
> _*whispers* this is draining my soul, you guys._


	4. pink

TRADEOFF

“I don’t want any gifts,” you say.

“C’mon, your lips are fucking chapped,” he says, and it’s just a chapstick- so, okay, fine, whatever.

 

It’s practically transparent.

_Practically._

_-_ completely.

 

ELEPHANT SHELL

You don’t talk about the elepha-

You don’t talk.

 

You’re better with your teeth, anyway.

 

BICKERING

 _Hello_ replaced with hellfire.

“Say that one more time.”

The arpeggio of back and forth motion.

“Dude, whatever, chill.”

Anything that can tip the scale, not brought to the table.

“Say that-”

 

Ease looks different on everyone.

 

FIGHT/FLIGHT

Sweaty palms, stuttering. A hush.

_Tick tock tick tock._

“I'm just going to leave,” he says.

You know how it goes: the five stages, _kiss push pull run claw,_ or just- _run._

 

Everything is an oversimplification.

Nothing is ever different.

 

BENDING

At every point: a choice.

An ellipse stretching thin, one end flat, one end careening.

At every point: swallow your pride, knock back your teeth.

_Spin a card, pick a number:_

_your seven seconds in heaven are over:_

_and now, now, the fall._

 

So, what will it be?

 

MAKE-UP

You end up in his room at midnight and he doesn’t say anything as he takes you back, every breath a dirty promise, a fist pushing your entrails back inside. You are spilling over, more light leaving the wrong way, more bile and cold pressed relief. Every ellipse stretching, congealing, pushing, colliding.

 

“Maybe I overreacted,” you say, and he shrugs.

Doesn’t say anything, pulls your hands in his.

 

You didn’t expect it to be this easy.

You didn’t expect it to be- you didn’t. Okay.

Okay.

 

LULL

“Cap’s better.”

“Stark kicked his _ass_.”

“Cap’s still better.”

“Okay, then, for the third time; **why**?”

“Because.”

“That isn’t an argument.”

“Fuck you.” 

“Is that an invitation?”

“You fucking-”

 

NOIR

A darkened theatre, and a gunfight.

 _Where the gun is a word?_ Yes.

“Yes, **_yes_** _, I love yo_ \- I.”

 

A dark room, and rusting armour.

“I- I love _this_.”

_Where the armour is something, anything, you can hold onto?_

Maybe.

 

_When you’ve been firing shots into the sky since- since every day, since always, so- can you be excused for expecting them to ricochet?_

“Yeah, I know what you meant.”

 

SCHEHERAZADE

The wrong hall. The wrong movie. History- a circle folded over a screen.

You can see the plot stretched like ripped tape across a page. You can-

“I'm…I don’t- I’ve never liked girls,” says the character on the screen, the caricature on the screen.

One more clenched fist pushed under your stomach, one more shaky breath.

“Hey, this is boring, we should leave,” he says, and it’s easily the fifth time. He tries to smile but you can see the concern.

 

“I'm-”

This, also, then- the plot like empty wrappers at the bottom of a can. The plot- this is the part where everybody laughs, the part where it is equal parts disgust and relief, always an _oh look we aren’t like that, thank god we aren’t like that, everything that could have gone wrong, not wrong_.

The part where you’d say “hey dad, dad, how many fags does it take to change a lightbulb?” and _not dad, dad, dad, please I'm_. The words stretched like ripped tape across rusting armour, the part where you’d sit on your palms and laugh. Sit on your words and laugh.

Sit and laugh.

“We should leave.”

 

LATER

“Are you okay? _Dex_?”

“Give me the dress.”

Pause.

“I don’t-”

Shakes his head, bites his lip.

“Give me the dress.”

“Not like this.”

“Give me the dress.”

Reaches an arm out.  Pulls back in.

 “I can't.”

 “Give it to me.”

Pause.

“Please, _Dex_ -”

 _Please_.

 

MORNING AFTER

“I'm sorry.”

“It’s…yeah, yeah, me too.”

-

“Are you okay, then?”

-

 

MIRROR, MIRROR

Years ago:

Pale face. Scattered freckles. Big ears.

The great unsayable thing, staring you in the face.

_Do a half truth and a lie cancel each other out?_

 

Either way. The illusion of love: or the illusion of choice.

_I'm not gay._

 

ON THE WALL

History is a loop folded over your seams.

_Look into my eyes._

History is a hangnail torn out before dawn.

“ _Haley, I don’t- I'm not, Haley-”_

You want to forget everything.

No, you, you, you want a blank slate.

_I am who I am I am who I say I am I am-_

“I can't keep doing this.”

 

SIX FEET UNDER

“I'm gay,” you whisper.

 

Press your head to the mirror.

_It’s just you. Just you._

“And I-”

 

Shaky fist. Clenched breath.

“I like dressing up,” you say.

Claw at the sink. Bile rising.

 

“I like- dresses and- makeup, I want to- I like- I-  I want-”

Pause.

Breathe.

 

“Him.”

 

THE GREAT UNSAYABLE THING

The world does not bend.

You stay in your skin.

 

STRETCHED BEGINNING

“Give me the dress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. _So. **It's done.**_
> 
> You guys were wonderful with all the support/comments etc., so thanks for that  <3
> 
> I'm gonna keep adding drabbles to the series- this story is far from complete, obviously. Dex has to actually wear dresses, for one :] 
> 
> But anyway, this was fun. Soul-drenching fun, but...yeah. Yeah. Let me know what you think, as always :)


End file.
